The Art of Surrender
by polka dots are underestimated
Summary: It was never as simple as "spoilers" for them. Rated T for slight violence. Nothing too strong. And just a touch of Dark!Jack.


Oh goodness. It has been a long time since I've written something (decent). My "gutter stories" can be found under a different name. Hehe. I've always thought River and Jack have a history together, and Alex Kingston herself said it should happen. So who am I to deny The Kingston?

I'd like to think that it has been several decades since Jack has last seen the Doctor. Established relationship (of sorts) with Jack/River. As is everything with them: it's complicated. And I do love a little Dark!Jack. Certainly not the darkest I've seen him written for Torchwood, and even less so, the things I've read in fanfiction. You may decide for yourselves if I did him justice. Moreover, River. "I do like a bad girl, me."

**DISCLAIMER:** Yes. It's me. I own Doctor Who. That's exactly why it's still technically classified as a kid's show and there is not a Doctor Who: After Dark spinoff. Get real. I definitely don't own this.

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**The Art of Surrender**

She flinched as a bullet tore across the beam several inches above her crouched form. Ducking and rolling, her weapon ready, she pushed herself deeper into the shadows as she lifted her weapon and aimed it at one of the few remaining lights shining overhead. The bulb shattered, sparks raining down on the assembled crates and packages prepared for shipping the next day.

She moved, sprinting from her hiding place, as bullets tore into the crates around her. Her gaze swept around the room and she grimaced as she saw the black-clad agents moving through the shadows with stealthy certainty.

Moving quickly, quietly she skirted the edges of the crudely built warehouse, working her way to the far wall where the loose boards there would allow her an easy exit. She didn't dare attempt to use the door.

"Not so fast."

River froze as the barrel of the gun was laid, almost casually, at the back of her neck.

She knew that voice. She knew the feel of that heated body behind her own. She held her hands out carefully allowing the gun to fall from her gloved fingers to the dusty floor as she restrained the impulse to release the lever holding the knife beneath the sleeve of her jacket.

Her backup was at her ankle, but it was dark so he wouldn't notice it.

Before she could do anything, she was jerked upright and slammed into the wall hard enough to knock her teeth together. If she hadn't been anticipating it.

Eyes narrowed, her arms kept carefully at her sides, her head jerked up as powerful fingers locked around her throat and held her in place.

Steely gray eyes locked on hers in surprise.

He hadn't known she was here.

River smiled and, while surprise held him immobile she made her move.

Her leg kicked up, almost slamming into the most sensitive of places, but barely glancing him instead. He fell back, his fingers slackening on her throat as she tore out of his grip.

His hand gripped her wrist as she turned into the hold, her ankle twisting around his, nearly taking him down.

Another graceful twist and she had an arm's distance between them as she crouched and stared back at him, eyes narrowed, breathing heavily.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, her hearts raced but not from fear.

"Let it go," She hissed quietly. "I'm no threat to you."

She would never be a threat to him. Not unless she absolutely had to be. And her hearts ached because she knew just what was on the line for him if he did let it go. Let _her_ go.

She knew what he'd been searching for tonight, under the façade of a mission for Torchwood. She'd been looking for the same thing. The same man. But this was the one thing, no matter what she wanted on his behalf, she couldn't help him with.

She watched him, pushing back her emotions as his eyes narrowed further. His weapon was tucked into the front of his black pants, easily accessible. Of course it was.

He could take her down so easily, they both knew it. Just as they both knew he wouldn't.

She hoped she was right.

"Why?" The snarled question was soft, filled with banked fury. "Why are you here? Where is he?"

She shook her head, not even bothering with her trademark _spoilers_. "I'm leaving now."

"The hell you are." His lips lifted in a warning growl, his heavily lined features and shadowed eyes, filled with fury, reflecting, briefly, just how long he'd been searching.

"The hell I am." She smiled back as his hand gripped the butt of his gun. "Will you shoot me, Captain?" She cocked her head slightly, knowing full well that she was playing with fire.

She backed away from him. Her exit was only a few feet away, the boards loosened just in case of such an emergency, prepared for her escape.

She closed the distance as she watched his face, his eyes. A second later it was her only warning. The gun was jerked from the band of his pants; he took aim and fired.

River threw herself back, knowing, certain she was staring death in the face, until she stumbled over the body behind her.

Whirling, she had only a moment to glimpse the fallen agent before she shoved the loosened board aside and slipped from the warehouse to the inky night beyond.

Just that easily, knowing she could never give him what he wanted, he had killed one of his own men.

For her.

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AN: Reviews are welcome and appreciated. And so are flames. Freedom of speech FTW! But if you do hate it, be a dear and tell me why.


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